


Reality is a Game and Crime an Illusion

by AvidReader3019



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence (Gravity Falls), Detective Dipper Pines, To Be Edited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:27:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24517672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvidReader3019/pseuds/AvidReader3019
Summary: Dipper always loved detective novels, but omniscience took away the fun. Enough years pass that he gets the power to bend reality and he can't figure out a reason why he shouldn't write his own, wipe his memory, start over, and bend reality into the one he created to see if the world's new greatest detective, Tyrone Pines, can solve the mystery. What's the worst that could happen?
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the sudden and abrupt edit. I wasn't super happy with where it was at before and it'll definitely go through another round of editing, but for now I added a ton of details about his new partner so it ended up a bit different from before. I'm trying super hard for a film noir vibe which is difficult when I can't do camera work, but I'm gonna try my best!

A young detective sits at home. Rain is dripping lazily down the window as it has been for the past year or so, never ceasing, just another mystery to add to the ever growing list. Although, that one would likely be easier to solve. Tyrone would never admit it, but this time he was stumped. You see, this man is the best detective the world has ever seen. Some suspect magic, but that hasn’t been seen in decades and is typically written off as jealousy. Some think he can read minds, but he always says “no” with a wave of his hand seeming to ignore the idiotic claim altogether without even beginning to consider it. He’ll say “it’s simply about going places most men won’t dare tread and having a strong enough constitution to withstand everything involved in a particularly gruesome case” he’ll usually then lean in close as if sharing a secret and shift his features to an expression of seriousness that simply can’t be disingenuous before whispering “and having the brains to connect all the dots before it’s too late,” his abrupt departure after the fact adds to his credibility, as people assume his memories of any failed cases haunt him, maybe something from his earlier more inexperienced days, but if they could catch him in the seconds afterwards they would witness the grin spread wide across his features and realize their hero may have some less than heroic qualities, but if confronted he would simply speak about how someone who has saved as many as him should be allowed a few moments of pride and who would be able to refute that?

Back to the task at hand, the detective takes another drag off his cigarette as he reads through the files once again. Another five murdered. All victims in the same building at the same time with seemingly no connections between the individuals. They didn’t live in the same neighborhood, none of their families knew each other, some had kids, some didn’t, all with vastly different looks… Nothing to connect them, and this wasn’t the only case either. With several other murders with this exact scenario occurring over the past five years. The only change being Tyrone’s own annoyance and declining heath, likely due to the damn stress of a completely unsolvable case. For goodness sake, his reputation was on the line! Years of work to be known worldwide for his skill in solving cases quickly and accurately. Years of work to be the most trusted and sought out detective. All on the line because of some killings that seemed to only be explainable by magic or some other stupid catch all, but magic doesn’t exist anymore, neither does color or true silence, so how do people keep dying with seemingly no cause? The victims have no wounds present on any of the bodies, no drugs in their systems, no fatal health conditions, and the crime scenes do not carry any sign of a struggle. The poor souls almost seem like they are sleeping until a loved one shows up back at home doesn’t find a pulse. 

The only difference in the murders themselves is where they take place and how frequently. It started with one woman coming home to find her wife and four other strangers lying unresponsive in the basement. She was understandably confused and went to shake her wife awake to ask for an explanation, but was met with a still warm body, and no pulse. She luckily had enough peace of mind to call the police, and within hours the media was all over it. Newspapers everywhere headlining the QUINTUPLE HOMICIDE WITH NO SIGN OF ASSAULT? It happened twice more over the course of three more years before it caught Tyrone’s attention due to his attentiveness to any current cases. He immediately raced to read all the media coverage and analyzed the reports, looking for some answers. It wasn’t long before a man was near breaking down his door to plead for his help. He explained his lack of funds while the detective explained his distaste for freelancing (a lie of course, but he would rather not have another _incident_ after the last time he secretly took a case, well, not without proper compensation, anyways). The man went into how much he loves his wife and can’t live without closure and Tyrone went into how he needed to “get over it” with much less tact than was necessitated by the situation. Just as the investigator had nearly successfully pushed the man out of his home, he pleaded. “Sir please I’ll give you **_anything_**! Whatever you could possibly want! I’ll find a way to get it.” Tyrone stopped walking him out and just stared with rapt attention as the man continued in a broken whisper. “Just help me. I can’t live like this.” And, well… how could anyone possibly say no to that?

Tyrone completely ceased his efforts to get rid of the man and offered him a seat instead, flashing the signature grin that he often was told seemed too large for a human face, but the quirk was easily written off by coworkers as the payment for genius. At least, that’s what they said when he eavesdropped on their conversations. It may be unethical, but you don’t get to be the best without trusting no one and investigating  _ everything  _ possible, especially those closest to you. Might explain his lack of a social network if he dared to investigate it close enough, but the man was happy enough with his work and didn’t see a reason for giving away valuable time for people while they weren’t being useful.

He straightened his suit jacket and sat down to work out a bit of a deal with the poor guy. It would be unfair to demand money knowing the man had none, (it would be unfair to demand anything at all while knowing he would investigate the case regardless, but both parties weren’t privy to that information so it didn’t count.) so they worked out an arrangement where he could call in a few favors at any time, no questions asked. The man was self employed at his own struggling law firm leading to a lack of money, but a wealth of secrets. The potential for easy access to critical, confidential information with the right calls. It could become extremely useful someday, and after shaking on it Tyrone felt lightning shoot up his spine - surely the familiar adrenaline rush of officially beginning a case, nothing more - and now here he was two years later with nothing even resembling a lead. The pressure of an unsolved case wearing him thin. Luckily, he didn’t have any family to speak of otherwise they may have done something annoying like take him away from the case to encourage his “health” or something else exceedingly trivial and unnecessary and the very reason he liked to work alone.

Tyrone sighs and throws the file down on the table, rising to grab some more coffee, knowing he’d need it. His boss ~~threatened him with~~ _offered_ him a partner to “help with the case” and said partner is due to arrive in the morning, so he figures it best to get some work done while there is still at least some semblance of a peaceful work environment. Partner’s only cause trouble. Whoever it was would only hinder the investigation, no matter how good they are at their job, specialist in psychological profiling and forensics or not. (Seriously just _pick_ one) The detective strictly works **alone,** without interference, and now he has to babysit someone instead of spending precious time doing his damn job. The guy gave him the creeps already anyways, which was incredibly alarming since Tyrone prided himself on never being squeamish, but _come on_. Even he could admit that his supposed “partner” was a lunatic. After receiving his name he immediately found everything he could on the guy, again one did not become a good investigator by twiddling their thumbs all day and simply accepting to meet people in the flesh for the first time while knowing nothing about them. That was how people got _killed_. The guy’s main talent was his profiling and even Tyrone could admit to being a bit impressed, but the way he was able to get inside the minds of the killers was… unsettling. Sure it was his job, but some of those locked away voluntarily went to therapy afterwards and became entirely different people. Criminals just up and deciding to knit for the rest of their lives after a few conversations with this guy. No one should have that kind of influence over the psyche and it sent a chill down his spine just thinking about it. Everyone had already given him the speech about how he was a wonderful guy, a bit quirky, but his understanding of the psyche of killers didn’t lead him to have one similar, and “you’re being paranoid he’s a super sweet guy! Give him a chance.” But as the saying goes “Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.” It was only a matter of time before the guy cracked and despite not having even met him yet, Tyrone got the distinct feeling that it was lucky he would at least be able to monitor him closely if nothing else.

The bitter taste of the coffee brings him back to the task at hand. There’s no sense wasting time on complaining while he only has… His eyes, the same shade of the coffee in his hand, the same shade as most everything in the room for that matter, dart over to the clock on the wall. Six more hours until his shift starts. Five uninterrupted hours of work left. Not near enough, but he’d make due. The man adds enough sugar and creamer to the coffee to kill a diabetic before shifting his attention back to the work.

Forty-Five faces stare at him from the wall, the same ones he’s become all too familiar with. A pen enters his mouth at some point, an old childhood habit never broken, mixing the taste of metal and coffee in a way that warms his insides the same way that partaking in an old recipe of a relative long passed warms you with their memory. The sugar he could understand having always had a bit of a sweet tooth, but in his mind’s eye the metallic taste of the pen always morphed into a more iron tang that reminded him of something he couldn't quite grasp and it filled him with intense satisfaction, yet horror at the same time… Just another mystery to add to the list, best not to dwell on it while real problems were at stake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrone gets to meet his partner... It doesn't exactly go as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna add a thanks so much to everyone who helped with this fic it's been a blast getting to work out the plot and wow it's finally mostly done. I wouldn't have even put out a second chapter and not deleted the first if not for the wonderful and just incredibly nice encouragement I've gotten, so thank you so so much!

_What did I do to deserve this?_ Tyrone shuts the door behind him with a soft _click_ and slides down to the floor, knocking his hat off as he runs his hands through his hair. He had been right, as usual, but not in the fun way. His partner not only _sucked_ as expected, but he was the literal worst person on the planet. Tyrone didn’t know very many people, but he was sure that this guy would remain the worst even under investigation. Not only did he have to put up with him for who knows how long, but he had also managed to gain his scientific curiosity and would be spending the case being a weird sort of guinea pig type entertainment. He wouldn’t be able to manage the worst case scenario “one word answers” sort of partnership he had been aiming for. Well, he had been aiming to make the guy run off and leave him alone, but it seemed he was too persistent and now curious. On second thought, maybe he could just not speak to the guy. He seemed to love the sound of his own voice enough to speak for the both of them, but then he would win and there was just no good way out of this.

The morning was pretty typical and included staring at the clock until it finally hit that neat time where he couldn’t procrastinate going to work anymore. A fedora was shoved on with a trench coat - because that’s the specific, special kind of person that Tyrone is - and he quite literally stumbled into the office, a few days without sleep will do that to a person. How long had it been? Two or three days? A week? This wasn’t exactly new as he would often go for days at a time without sleep and was rather well known for coming in barely functioning, but this time he was supposed to meet this “esteemed” (cue gag reflex) psychologist and oh yeah his new partner.

Tyrone didn’t want or need a sidekick he worked just fine alone thank you, so why _should_ he be presentable for the guy? The captain was less understanding about this fact, however, and he got to enjoy a riveting lecture about making a good impression ending with “just don’t be sooo well…” The captain made a vague gesture to encompass Tyrone’s figure. “ **You.** ” whatever the hell that meant before he shoved the detective into the room. 

The room itself was one of the few ones set aside specifically for meetings, and as such, usually sat empty, until now. A humanoid figure stood towards the back of the room staring seemingly at the wall for a moment before turning around smoothly at the sound of the door shutting. Tyrone kept his face perfectly neutral while sizing the other up which seemed to be mutual if the intense stare was any indication. It only lasted for a moment however as the man sauntered across the room with a grin on his face and if it was anything like his own no wonder people seemed so unnerved, but he refused to show any sort of weakness.

Tyrone lifted his chin a bit higher and straightened, well he would have at least if he wasn’t already straight as a board, looking at the man with a neutral expression hoping to convey just how little he could get to him. The man’s focus was the mind, which is all about manipulation and using subtleties to psychologically disarm an opponent, well little did he know two could play at that game and as far as Tyrone was concerned it began weeks ago when they got each other’s names and access to information. He knew that the arrogant self proclaimed “mind expert” wouldn’t have done any previous research (just like in his other cases) instead opting to come in blind to “prevent any preconceived bias” obviously a nicely worded excuse to not have to do any work before he absolutely had to. By the time that thought dissolves into general feelings of superiority the man (he wouldn’t dare give the psychologist the satisfaction of knowing his name upon meeting him), so he decides to feign ignorance as a hand slips into his for introductions, but the other speaks before Tyrone can even get a word in.

“You must be my partner for the case! Name’s Samuel, but you can call me Sam. The only person who uses my full name is my mother, or I guess I should say she used to be.” He laughs, loudly, and it takes all the resolve Tyrone has to not walk out of the room right then. The sound itself combined with the ambiguously dark humor of the statement made a chill run down his spine, and in that moment this man’s ability to get into the minds of killers was made all the more understandable.

The oddly calloused hand (something to look into later) finally lets go and he practically yanks his own back down to its proper position at his side. He had spoken to his partner, Samuel Ankaa (Tyrone did his research, although, Samuel would never get the satisfaction of knowing that), for all of five seconds and he already hated him. Having to listen to _that_ voice for any length of time would be problematic, maybe he’ll be more of the quiet, analytic type? Generally keeping that horrible, _loud_ voice to himself instead of punishing the general populous, but Tyrone knew with his luck that likely wouldn’t be the case and oh no he must’ve missed something because two eyes stared at him intently, questioningly. Eyes that almost seemed a different brightness, but it was hard to tell anyone’s eyes apart anyways, not like those orbs had very distinctive qualities, a horrible thing to use to describe someone, really.

_What had he just said?_ Most people would want a mutual introduction, so it had to be something along those lines and if he was wrong well, no harm in explaining to his _ugh_ “partner” his lack of attentiveness to anything he had to say. He might as well let him know up front how little he cared, it would be kind, even! Get them both on the same page, but he was getting ahead of himself.

“Pines. _Detective Pines_ to you.”

Sam’s grin returned as the questioning look slid away easily, as if it had never existed in the first place. “Aww. A whole title just for me? You shouldn’t have!” 

Tyrone’s casual annoyance was twisted into confusion at that statement, but he couldn’t give anything away and thus quickly worked to maintain his expression back into the neutral one from before, but he must have had a millisecond slip if the smug look mere inches from his face was any indication. _When did he get that close?_ The slip was noticed since it was being watched for and maybe this guy was better than he thought? Could he have underestimated him?

No. Of course not, Samuel was just trying to poke at him, unnerve him, make him give something away, but Tyrone actually did his research and wouldn’t fall for another trick again. He would need maybe a bit more attentive than usual if this guy was planning on being like this the entire time. He could admit that. Although… he would be lying if part of him didn’t get a little excited at the prospect- The thought was metaphorically lit on fire and tossed into a pit within his mind. None of that here. This is an **adversary** not an exciting challenge, not for him. He thought he had the upper hand, time to take control back.

“No. Not ‘just for you,’” Tyrone even made sure to add the most condescending air quotes he could manage. “It’s the same title everyone else uses, so sorry if that ruins your plan of us being close partners, _Samuel_ .” Now **that** gets a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it frown from the jerk, and Tyrone taps a finger to his lip and furrows his brow, pretending to think it over really hard. “Oh wait, no I’m not because let’s get one thing straight.” He takes over the small amount of personal space between them and narrows his eyes, poking Samuel with each word for emphasis. “I. Don’t. Need. A. Partner. As far as I’m concerned you’re riding on my coattails while I do the real investigation, so if you have anything useful then feel free to tell me, though I doubt it'll be anything I haven’t already thought through. If not, you can keep your mouth shut and keep the psycho-whatever to yourself.”

With his spill done and a rush a pride surging through him, Tyrone rolls back on his heels and gives a smug smile, a near reflection of Sam’s from before and watches, waiting for the man to crumble under the pressure just as many others had before him. This wasn’t exactly Tyrone’s first partner assignment. The others had left in a matter of hours if not minutes and he had perfected the art at this point hoping for a new record if nothing else. 

To his utter and complete surprise Sam looks him up and down, critically. Not even a whisper of an attempt to back away. Hell, Samuel even follows him when he leans back with that stupid smile again. “Oh, this is gonna be _fun_ .” With that Sam winks and strides out of the room going off who-knows-where and leaving Tyrone in shock. Anyone else would have left the room and given some speech about being too important or whatever to deal with someone like that, not for any case in the world, but this man just. He just. And then... Tyrone sighed heavily and went into a separate abandoned office to think. _What did I do to deserve this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who bothers figuring out Sam's name gets an imaginary golden star sticker for looking into the, frankly, too many hours of research that went into my decision.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper's guide on how to outsmart a psychology dork that just won't shut up. (But also has done literally nothing wrong)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thanks so so much! I can't express that enough to anyone reading this. I have been put in the mood of "wow someone read this" and "oh no someone read this" simultaneously. It's a nice mix of terror, warm fuzzy feelings, and mostly incentive to keep writing and editing this trainwreck, so thanks!

He needs a plan of attack. Tyrone has spent far too long in this office to not. Running the conversation over and over in his head helps quite a bit and  _ how was that only a couple minutes!? _ But he has realized a few things. The first thing is that he had approached Samuel from the wrong angle, and would need to switch things up. The man is a so-called expert on the mind. He enjoys learning about how it works so much that he decided to study it for his entire life, especially the ones belonging to the darkest and weirdest people possible. 

Tyrone coming in and immediately being difficult and unlike most people had the opposite effect because it only intrigued him. His partner was now  **interesting** , someone he needed to figure out, someone to try well worn tactics on and learn about. Maybe even something completely new. Samuel had surely heard rumors as well. Research or not he’d surely heard a few remarks about Tyrone’s abrasive disposition from the captain if no one else. He expected push back and likely welcomed it with enough warning, why else would he lead so aggressively? It was the best explanation for him being so forward in introducing himself when all the psychological professionals Tyrone had ever heard of started with a more listening-oriented approach. All Samuel likely knew going in was that his new partner was smart, abrasive, and would likely try to get rid of him first thing, so he obviously decided to get his proverbial foot in the door by introducing himself first. Likely assuming that the tactic would throw the, typically leading, detective off his rhythm a bit. 

He then initiated physical contact, which makes most people hesitate anyways, and Tyrone was no exception, though not in the way Sam intended. Handshakes could let you know a lot about a person. Some would be nervous about how they appealed to the other, but for Tyrone handshakes meant he could feel the hand and piece together a lot of someone’s life story. Softer hands meant a softer living and were honestly what he had anticipated, but the calluses he had felt in that moment piqued his curiosity enough for him to miss the subtle shifts being made for the other to learn from him as well. They were oddly placed as well. Most rougher work would place calluses near the palm, but his were positioned on the very tips of his fingers and side of his thumb. It was odd enough that he planned on looking into it later. Interesting for sure.

Samuel didn’t stop at that though. He threw in a taboo subject for a darker joke than would ever be appropriate in a first meeting, making for a detective that was too confused to push back. That’s all Tyrone was. Momentarily confused. Not unnerved. Not worried. Simply, a bit thrown off by some incredibly bizarre behavior, as anyone would be. If he hadn’t been so thrown off by the interaction and distracted by his massive headache, (which again was quite typical considering his sleeping habits, but still.) he wouldn’t have been so stupidly aggressive with his responses and could have thrown the smug jerk off twice as much in return, enough to get him to quit altogether. 

Tyrone knows he’s in a good position now, a comfortable one, a powerful one. His partner is off somewhere assuming he’s unaware of the mind games and is licking his wounds after being so spectacularly thrown off, but no one throws Tyrone Pines off.  _ No one _ . He may need a second to evaluate before bouncing back, but Tyrone is the most  dangerous intelligent detective out there or he wouldn’t be where he is now. Sam will underestimate him for the foreseeable future and he  _ knows _ just how perfect a position that is. 

Just after that thought enters his mind there’s a sudden piercing pain in his head. It’s like the headache just suddenly decided to get seven times worse out of nowhere. His head is warm to the touch.  _ What the hell? Am I sick? _ Just as he starts an attempt to sort out what could be happening, a knock pounds against the other side of the door and he files the thought away for later, choosing to ignore the pain.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The captain in his words has “ _ finally” _ found him. Despite the fact that it had been less than an hour since his encounter with his partner. His opening of the door was met with a “I’ve been looking all day! Come on!” Tyrone follows him into the hall, but tunes him out near immediately, deciding his time is better spent working on his plan of attack for the next time he sees Sam which will apparently be incredibly soon, a thought that is met with intense unease or maybe that’s just the fever? Speaking of, all his other thoughts are focusing on how soon he can sleep this sudden sickness off. He should be able to get home relatively quickly, so he can stop becoming intimately acquainted with the feeling of his brain attempting to claw its way out of his head and  _ oh no _ there’s another stab of pain, but he steels himself to ensure that the captain doesn’t notice. Maybe he had missed a few more days than he thought? Humans aren’t meant to go very long without sleep, so his immune system was just doing the equivalent of screaming “Go the hell to sleep, you jerk! I’m trying to get things back into working order, but I can’t with you being in control of the stupid fleshsack Twenty Four / Seven!” Funny how Tyrone nearly felt like he could hear those words banging around his skull. 

Even lost in his thoughts as he is, Tyrone catches some snippets of the captain’s rambling something about “Wow you didn’t mess this up,” “Guy seems to like you as hard as that is to believe,” “This was a perfect idea!” He even goes so far as to literally pat himself on the back and the amount of effort it takes Tyrone to keep quiet about both the arrogant-as-all-hell self praise and the pain pounding against his skull has him biting his tongue. Although, the  _~~ not at all bad? ~~ _ , taste of blood brings him out of his thoughts accompanied by a bout of dizziness. 

The now walking-ball-of-discomfort formerly known as Detective Pines is dragged into another office that’s all too familiar, even in his current state. Papers cover every available surface, chewed up pens lie discarded on the floor and windowsill, the bulletin board lies untouched, or it  _ did _ until now. That jerk, who he sincerely hopes is just some messed up hallucination from a lack of sleep, is now moving the news clippings and headlines around as if Tyrone hasn’t spent the past few  _ months _ moving them into those exact positions. He focuses on the rage more than anyone has ever focused on anything, and shoves any thoughts of pain to the background in favor of dealing with  _ this _ for now.  _ Just make it home and then collapse. _ He takes a deep breath.

“What are you doing?” Tyrone tries to sound genuinely inquisitive and interested, but it’s more tense than is ideal.

The jerkwad turns to face him and  _ oh stars no. _ He has several of the pins in his mouth since his hands are occupied with removing more pins and holding the papers. There’s muffled speech that is intended to be a serious response if the wide eyes are anything to judge by, but he seems to realize the mistake. The definitive worst human on the planet puts the papers down, rolls his eyes while mumbling something, and gathers the pins into his now empty hand. “Well I was  _ trying _ to say how useful another set of hands would be, but I think I ended up just demonstrating my point.” He laughs that horrible high pitched  _ screech  _ of a laugh again before nearly skipping over. Surely another technique to get into Tyrone’s head, but this time he is prepared and restrains himself from even thinking about shifting back. 

They’re met with a smile and a small nod of respect is thrown to the captain before he launches into an explanation. “I figured a fresh start coupled with my newly added perspective might allow for some progress, so I took it upon myself to clean off the board so we can start from scratch.” He shrugs before gesturing to the table that’s now covered in what used to be on the board. “I can put it back if you want, I’m sure you worked hard on it and all, but I’d love to go through everything together and see if we can’t find something new that may have been missed?” He looks at the ceiling contemplatively and scratches his chin “It’s probably a long shot, but who knows? It’s not like we have any other leads to go off of.” 

_ There it is. _ That’s the comment Tyrone has been waiting for. Sam seemed genuine for all of five seconds before his true nature showed back up to jab at the detective for his lack of progress. Well, he wouldn’t be getting a rise out of him this time. Tyrone slaps on the most sincere looking smile he can manage while dealing with this level of pain and annoyance.

“That’s a fantastic idea! In fact… Why don’t we spend the rest of the day starting from the first case and work our way through all the evidence until present. That way we can ensure we’re on the same page even if we don’t find anything new.” There. A nice easy day he could nearly sleepwalk his way through before getting home and actually sleeping the pain off. The sudden behavioral change should be enough to occupy his partner for the remainder of the time as he tries to pin him down. Thus leaving Tyrone with some quiet as he pretends to look over clues he knows better than his own name at this point.

Sam doesn't disappoint as the new enthusiasm and cooperativeness of his partner is met with a subtle eyebrow raise replaced quickly by a smile, but this time, at least, the corners are pulled down ever so slightly by confusion. Tyrone’s smile becomes a bit more genuine. 

“Perfect! I guess it’s settled, then.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get some insight into how Sam is dealing with all this...

It was not perfect.

Sam slowly comes to the realization that he has maybe made some missteps. He’s not so arrogant to think that none of this is his own fault, but _come on_! The whole point of coming all the way here for this stupid case was to work, but he had been planning on having some fun with it at least! However, now that he’s here it seems like a certain someone isn’t going to let him even attempt to have a second of anything close to fun. 

Normally he wouldn’t be so quick to give up on someone. It's literally his job to do the opposite! To give a chance to those who society has thrown to the wayside, but even _he_ thinks this is a bit much. 

Here he is in an unfamiliar city wanting to provide some insight and assistance, but instead he gets a guy who hates his guts in seconds. A guy who feels more _off_ than any of the killers he’s ever worked with and who has decided to act like Sam personally drowned his favorite kitten. Just from meeting him! Plus, said guy has a weird mark stamped right onto that forehead of his that Sam has decided to sketch so he can look it up later. It feels incredibly familiar. Perhaps the mark is the cause of the off feeling? Or maybe not. Maybe the _off-ness_ comes from being treated like the biggest problem to grace the Earth after simply introducing himself. Yeah, that’s probably it. Sam knew coming in that the guy was a loner, but he’d assumed the detective just had a fear of interacting or something along those lines! Not that his personality was the issue.

Sam looks back down at his notebook to check the drawing it’s just a weird five pointed... _thing_ staring back at him. _What is that?_ No shape like he's ever seen, that's for sure. He notes with some disinterest that Tyrone has slipped his hat back on at some point seemingly intending to keep him from accurately drawing the rest unless he hadn’t been caught and it was a coincidence.

Mister Detective Sir Tyrone Sir Pines Sir (and even that nickname seems to not be long or lofty enough for the “esteemed” detective as his intense glare just _intensified_ at the title) has only been around the psychologist for a whopping total of 157 minutes, that’s if you can count glares as “being around” him, and he’s already written his partner off completely. Sam called this realization “mildly” disappointing in the same tone that he referred to the complete loss of magic as a “mild” adjustment. 

Sam had been ecstatic when he found out he was getting a partner. Someone to study alongside the case at hand? A subject- sorry, _potential friend_ that would be a far cry from his usual cases? He was ready to sign up right then, but when he found out who it was? 

There aren’t words to describe the levels of elation. Although, he could honestly claim to have spent a week trying to find one that would work. Him and a world class investigator? Experts in their respective fields? Teaming up to solve a crime? The whole idea felt like something out of a film. It had **potential.** It would be incredible! Incredibly fun to watch that is, seeing as to how he clearly had more of it solved than the so called investigator, but still _fun_.

It was in this mindset that he found himself standing in that meeting room straightening his tie and trying to keep his grin from showing through. He needed to be professional and appear interesting enough to the detective that he wouldn’t lose interest and try to get rid of him. Getting rid of him meant no watching and no watching meant he might as well leave. Observing a detective, someone from the other side of the curtain so to speak would be very interesting indeed. He dealt with killers, so watching someone who caught those killers? How similar did the minds have to be in order to find one another? How close to murderer did the detective have to get in order to be so good at finding them? Oh the essay at the end of this would be just wonderful, and there _would_ be an essay. Permission to use the observations would be easy to get. Just flatter a bit, stroke his ego, and he’d be sold. And if not… Everyone could be bought eventually.

Still, he needed a foot in the door and the best way to do that with someone with that kind of a workaholic streak would be to appear as an enigma. A puzzle would get his attention for sure, so he planned a bit of a weird and gruesome introductory joke. Something morbid enough to shift him from “psychologist who works with serial killers” to “might be one himself” with the _it takes one to know one_ ideal taken to the extreme. It would be perfect, but then he let the coldness of the detective’s introduction get to him and instead of sticking to the _plan_ made the detective uncomfortable on purpose and now working with him would be hell and it was _mostly_ his own fault if he was being honest. 

Sam gets to watch all that anticipated aforementioned **potential** go down in flames. No, wait. Not even flames because flames would mean drama and excitement and this? Decidedly not exciting. Sam is bored out of his mind and his partner has to be as well and is acting like he’s enamored by these files just to spite him. He came in very aware that his new teammate would be sorta private and had a tendency to keep to himself. Hell, his record of sending partners away was impressive, an exciting challenge to overcome, a psychological playground of issues to analyze after he gained trust! But the detective had to do _something_ for Sam to be able to find out anything more substantial than he already had, and, well… 

Sam sneaks a look over at his partner for a moment. He’s still insisting on pretending to read those stupid case files. How does Sam know he’s pretending you might ask? It isn’t very hard really. 

To be fair to Detective Pines, anyone less qualified would say he is doing an excellent job at seeming genuine. He’s the picture of genuine concentration: eyebrows pinched together, hands clutching the files tightly, but not tight enough to seem suspicious, a few hums here and there every so often as if to say “I am definitely reading,” and light inhales to communicate “Wow! Is that a new clue? I wonder what that could mean?” 

Again, the detective is the spitting image of someone who is totally invested in the case, so none of that is what tipped Sam off. What _he_ finds telling are the deep, dark circles under those even darker eyes that mean his partner has either A: recently been beaten within an inch of his life or B: hasn’t slept in so long it’s becoming quite the problem. 

Sam would typically be willing to seriously consider the beating explanation in his line of work, but the several cups of coffee that entered and left the room in such a short span of time would suggest otherwise. The telltale sign of someone who had not only been through this case a million times and as such would not be finding anything even remotely new or interesting, but who also happened to be doing that Just. Last. Night. 

_How much coffee can one guy drink!?_ Caffeine consumption at that high a volume in such a short time can’t be safe, not to mention the sugar. Jeez, the liquid in the mug is nearly white, not the muted gray coffee should be. He would mention it, but any of his raised brows (concern, not judgement) are met with a vicious scowl that would have anyone less determined out the door in a second. 

The good thing is that this can be salvaged. His partner is still interesting, still something he can study, just much more closed off than anticipated. Sam can adapt and change his original plans. If an abrasive personality was all it took for the psychologist to give up then well, Samuel wouldn’t be as renowned as he is today. He’ll just have to be patient. Play the mind games. Keep the detective on his toes. Throwing him off will be _key_ now. Sam is in _his_ city in _his_ workplace, so getting him unsteady on home turf will be the only way to make any real headway, and not to mention an extremely exciting challenge. And when he’s done with that... who knows? Maybe he’ll be able to sway Pines to help with the _real_ reason he’s here. After all, that mark can’t mean nothing, right?


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrone gets about as much sleep as I do but with way better results

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So warning I edited the last chapter a bit and the edits are kinda minor except Sam is a bit more cohesive I think? And the mark is touched on a bit more. So I super apologize for the many many edits, but good news is with my snazzy new outline I found online hopefully this won't happen in the future!

Tyrone has investigated some difficult cases over the years, and the occupational hazards of the job make for some difficult days, but none of them led to a feeling even close to the one he currently endured. The screaming in his head had only gotten louder throughout the day and no amount of coffee seemed to help. 

It was midway through cup ten that he decided that since neither of them seemed to be reading the files genuinely, he could probably just leave. It was close enough to time to go anyways and while he was at least  _ pretending _ to read Samuel didn’t seem to have the same idea, instead it looked like he was sketching? He wanted to see what it was, but between knowing that it may rope him into unwanted conversation and the fact that it was likely nothing very interesting anyway he dropped it, and if he leaned a little in passing he was most definitely  **not** curious he was just stretching as all humans often do. 

The detective leaves with a slight tilt of his hat at the other because it’s better than talking and he’s not going to get into an argument after he’s been thankfully rather quiet all day. Which is likely bad news for future him, but very good news for current him whose head is pounding and just wants it to stop.

The walk home is relatively short and his coat catches most of the rain leaving him dry enough after taking it off by the door. He scatters the various books and papers off of the bed that somehow end up there even with a perfectly good desk mere feet away and collapses onto it not taking the care to even set an alarm. His partner can likely be without him for a little while and it’s not like he’s ever been late before… 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The grating ringing of the telephone rips the detective from a dreamless sleep. There’s a vague impression of screaming and something he ought to remember, but that is all forgotten in moments in favor of the waking world. Which brings him back to the reason he’s awake in the first place. Since no one should have this number other than work, so it must be important especially considering the time.  _ Did I oversleep? _

Normally unlikely, but considering how horrible he felt the night before, not outside the realm of possibility. Speaking of which, his head no longer seems to want to tear itself apart and he feels a lot better than he has in a long while. Huh. Almost like sleep is important for health or something. Before he can dwell any longer on the wonders of self care he’s interrupted by another ring. The phone. Right. He rushes over to the wall and raises it up to his ear to answer.

“What’s wro-”

The frantic breathless voice of the captain interrupts him. “You need to get down here  **now.** ”

Tyrone risks a glance at the clock and is shocked to find it’s only three in the morning. Still dark outside. Way too early for this sort of thing. Unless… Is there something new with the case? Probably not, more likely something else entirely. When was the last murder? Although that wouldn’t help since they aren’t evenly spaced, and if they didn’t have the exact same M.O. no one would have connected them at all. Probably some sort of routine crime, but then why call so early in the morning? He also wouldn’t be so insistent-

“Tyrone?”

He shakes his head trying to clear his thoughts. One of those useless habits that are hard to explain and even harder to break. “What’s going on?”

“Your case? It just got a hell of a lot closer to home. I need you at the crime scene yesterday.”

“Of course! Just give me the address.” He scribbles it down with the promise to get there quick and to “not cause a wreck, but don’t exactly follow the signs if it slows you down.” The phone is placed back with a click and Tyrone runs out the door barely grabbing his coat, thankful that he didn’t change out of his clothes. 

As he slides into the vehicle the detective briefly worries about how excited he is at the prospect of a murder, but he can’t help it! All the others were both too far away to get to in time, not to mention outside jurisdiction, but now he gets to look  _ up close _ . There will be evidence to analyze and data to collect and witnesses to interview this time and they’ll be so much closer to an answer. That much closer to finding out who’s doing this and why and  _ this  _ is why he loves the job. 

He can’t stop the grin that takes over his features as he rushes over, keeping to his promise of ignoring anything that slows him down. It’s not like anyone is on the roads at this hour anyways. 

It only takes a few minutes before he’s jumping out of the car and into the building. A regular house just like all the previous times and there’s blood on the walls and it’s so nice to finally get to see this in person. Five bodies. All laying in a specific pattern, but not one he’s familiar with. Almost like a wheel with all the feet touching in the middle and the heads near equidistant from each other.  _ Were the other bodies arranged like this? _ There’s blood this time, something he simply can’t remember hearing about at the other crime scenes and it could be a serious breakthrough. It’s smeared in two curved arcs downward from the center with the tips not touching and instead ending in another smaller pool of blood in the same arrangement as the bodies. 

He walks towards it and the pain from yesterday flares in his head. Eyes close against it and it immediately dissipates. He opens his eyes to something startling. The bodies are in a formation. Despite going over all the reports just yesterday he can’t recall whether they mentioned such a detail. They would have, right? It is too abnormal to ignore. He takes out a small notebook from his inner jacket pocket and starts to draw… something. No wait he was going to interview potential witnesses. Of course, why else would his notebook be out?

He shakes off the unease that just naturally comes with being at the scene of a crime, but this isn’t just any crime. It’s  **the** crime. Maybe he will be able to find something new? Seeing victims themselves hadn’t provided any new insight. Just five bodies in a home, no wounds present, no sign of even a struggle just like the others. It seems it’ll depend on the witness statements now.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Investigating witnesses... What on Earth could possibly go wrong? Also Tyrone isn't as much of a loner as he likes to imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not died! Sorry for the wait school is already causing panic, and it isn't even August yet.   
> Also! I don't know how to work Tumblr really, but I asked for help and after many questions and very kind humans giving answers I have now posted this on there. I will probably be putting links to new chapters on there as I go? I'm not really sure how that is supposed to work, but I'm working on it!

Tyrone walks outside and pulls his hat down against the drizzle. Several other people mill about on the sidewalk trying to catch a glimpse of the crime scene or at least find out what’s going on. He finds his captain in the small crowd and decides to check in. His superior sounded pretty frazzled on the telephone earlier and the fact that Tyrone ignored him on arrival in favor of rushing in means he should probably at least say hello by now. 

Sure, he’d rather not, but attempting to be sociable has always been a point of contention between him and Captain Sidra, and any favor he can garner with the guy is essential after the incidents with Samuel just a few hours ago. Sidra has always been weirdly concerned with Tyrone’s social life, or, rather, lack thereof. He’s always inviting the loner to work gatherings, though he’s never accepted, and trying as hard as possible to get the guy a partner. He believes “Two minds are better than one.” so Tyrone’s assertion that “No, really, my mind is fine enough on its own, thanks.” is only met with a sad shake of the head and a dramatic wiping away of a fake tear. They have a sort of… agreement? Arrangement? Mutual understanding? Anyways, they are always honest with one another.

Tyrone is honest anyway, so it’s more of making sure Sidra can discuss higher level information that maybe shouldn’t be given to everyone lest it cause mass panic. Some may consider that to be trust, but who is Tyrone going to tell anyway? There’s minimal risk and a mutually beneficial agreement. Tyrone reveals case developments as they happen and refrains from keeping anything important to himself and Sidra gives him all the puzzle pieces to investigate. This seems like the best way to do things for everyone, but loose lips are always a problem and if an infiltration scenario  _ were _ to happen, unlikely as it may be, they wouldn’t have enough to truly ruin the investigation.

The detective gets within earshot of Sidra, but to his horror it’s not that smooth baritone he hears, but a high pitched tone that seems to grate on his every nerve in a matter of milliseconds. Low and behold his partner is standing right there in, he notes with some satisfaction, sleepwear. That oh so meticulously groomed hair now messed up with those curious hands rushing up to stifle a yawn. It seems he rolled out of bed and stumbled here last second looking completely unprofessional. The knowledge that all the detectives here can see just how useless he is to the case, hell, maybe Sidra will even consider sending him home over this! He’s always been a stickler for work attire, probably more because ‘if he can’t wear fun things in the workplace then no one can,’ but still. That idea alone coupled with the first sleep he’s had in weeks puts a spring in Tyrone’s step he hasn’t felt remotely up to for a while.

He steps up to the pair grinning, not even attempting to hide his delight and dives in full force, smug as can be. “I take it you’re not a morning person, then?” He flicks his eyes over the other’s clothing for emphasis. 

Sidra turns around in a way that Tyrone would hope doesn’t cause whiplash if he could find it within himself to care right now and blinks in surprise. He obviously hadn’t heard his approach and slaps him lightly on the arm in retribution. “I am most certainly not, which is why you’re here, you freak of nature. I bet you weren’t even asleep when I called you.”

Tyrone’s eyes flick to Samuel briefly wondering why they aren’t addressing that problem first, but hey he’s flexible. The grin turns into something a bit more friendly at the sight of the only human he can say he genuinely, could potentially, over time, maybe come to like? Or something like that, whatever, it’s not important. 

Point is, Tyrone’s eyes soften just a fraction and they don’t do that for anyone else. End of story. Sidra can be a pain sometimes like when Tyrone hasn’t slept in weeks and has a partner sprung on him, but his intentions are pretty sound, so the detective can’t stay angry for long. It may not be smart to relax in front of an enemy but another glance at the pajamas and yeah he won’t be a problem for much longer. Mind made up, he finally continues. “I was actually asleep this time for once, promise. Plus I already know that. I meant  _ him _ .” He gestures to Samuel.

The captain narrows his eyes for a moment before relenting. “I believe you this time, but if I find out you’re lying I don’t care how much you want to work this case I will not hesitate to send you home for a day. You’re useless without rest and don’t you ‘I’m don’t get tired. I’m perfectly capable- blah blah blah’ me, Pines.” 

He leans in to Tyrone’s ear and whispers “Your shirts tell me all I need to know.” before leaning back with a smug smile and a wink. The younger man only resists protesting because of the hyper-awareness of Sam’s presence in front of them, and has to settle for rolling his eyes. You end up with your shirt in your mouth  _ one time _ and never hear the end of it.

Sidra in that moment finally seems to remember the third individual, the one he oh so graciously allowed to take part in this case and frowns. “What do you mean-”

Sam seems to find this as the opportune moment to interrupt and his eyes widen in realization. “Oh! Well about that…” He looks down at his ensemble and has the audacity to look embarrassed. “I’m not really supposed to be here. Not ‘active duty’ or anything I was just in the neighborhood, literally.”

At Tyrone’s raised brow Sidra explains. “Mister Ankaa here is staying on this street for the duration of his time with us and came running over when he heard screams.” 

He smiles as if to say ‘See I told you he would be good’ and Tyrone’s eyes widen to shoot back ‘You can’t be serious!?’ 

__ Somehow, the looks must have somehow communicated something along the lines ‘your turn!’ to the psychologist because he sadly starts speaking again. “I was taking a walk to familiarize myself with the neighborhood a bit and heard someone screaming so I ran over and by the time I got here there were bodies on the floor and no one else around.” 

“Ankaa here was the one who called us in, and there’s no one else here, so get his witness statement down and check up on anything else you want to get before leaving, so we can start banging down doors in the  _ later  _ morning.” The captain gives Tyrone a reassuring tap on the shoulder that instills no such feeling and goes to leave calling over his shoulder, “Don’t forget to tell Mara when you head out. She’s inside and I told her not to leave until you do.”

_ Great. Can’t wait to have  _ that  _ conversation.  _

The detective narrows his eyes at his apparent witness and clicks his pen aggressively. “So, according to procedure you’re now the prime suspect. You get to town and immediately there’s a murder on the street you live on? No alibi either since you live alone and were supposedly jogging, alone, in the middle of the night?” The last part is phrased like a question and the ever present pen clicks come to an abrupt stop. His feet do as well even though he can’t remember when the pacing started. Does Tyrone really think Sam is the killer? Of course not, not even a little, but he might as well utilize the high ground while he has it.

Samuel’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before the cockiness returns full force with a smile. “Yep! Well you see~” He comes too close for comfort once again and he seems to do this to everyone, so maybe he just wasn’t aware of personal space, but  _ come on _ . “I often jog ‘in the middle of the night’ as you said. Any of my friends can attest to that. An odd quirk, sure, but we all have them.” He mutters softly, under his breath “Chronic nightmares will do that.” 

Tyrone almost says something, but it’s clear the words weren’t meant for him to hear and something about the way he says it makes him think it’s perhaps the most genuine thing Sam has said since their meeting. It makes him falter for a moment stirring a sort of weird almost defensive response that feels a hundred percent instinctual and has him reeling. Somewhere in his mind he has the fleeting incoherent thought to fight the nightmares? The second he thinks it, it goes away, but the weird feeling persists. He physically shakes it from his mind and moves on. Relatable sleeping problems are no reason to sympathize with this horror that waltzed into his life. 

“As plausible as it may be, you can’t prove it, so I’m keeping my eye on you.” Tyrone’s eyes flick up to meet Samuel’s in an intense stare to convey ‘I will literally tear my eyes out and stick them to your body with glue,’ but something about Sam’s lack of a response makes him feel like the message isn’t fully understood. The detective clears his throat and flicks his notebook to take down the next few, more standard, questions. Because as much as he hates the guy, there’s still a case to solve.


End file.
